Sunday, December 24, 2006

The Night Before

I can hardly believe it, but everything is done.After I woke up at 6am and was unable to go back to sleep – very unlike me – I spent most of the day in the kitchen, wearing slippers and my new pajamas (thanks, JG’s mom!), while I measured ingredients and whipped mint icing and dipped finished products in chocolate.But I’m finished!Boxes of cookies are stacked up and a cheesecake is quivering in the fridge.

Tonight, per my request, JG and I will watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.It cracks me up to watch Lucy insist on being the Christmas Queen and that Schroeder should buy “pretty things for pretty girls.”I also laugh out loud when all of the kids sing “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and they tilt their heads backward and open their mouths really wide – in unison!The best part, though, is when Linus takes the stage and says, “Lights, please.”Oh, I can’t wait.

Aside from the excitement of hosting Christmas (like a real adult or something) I’m savoring the time alone with JG most of all. Christmas brings out the contemplative in me, what can I say? It all reminds me of a certain strip from Calvin and Hobbes, my favorite comic.In 1989, Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday, so cartoonist Bill Watterson wrote a poem for the occasion, framed by a single-panel, color illustration of Calvin leaning up against Hobbes in front of a toasty fire.I may not have a fireplace or a stuffed tiger, but I have a comfy couch and a wonderful husband, and the lines are pretty close to what I’m feeling now.From our quiet, cozy living room, I leave you this poem and the warmest wishes for a great Christmas.

On window panes, the icy frost Leaves feathered patterns, crissed & crossed, But in our house the Christmas tree Is decorated festively With tiny dots of colored light That cozy up this winter night. Christmas songs, familiar, slow, Play softly on the radio. Pops and hisses from the fire Whistle with the bells and choir. My tiger is now fast asleep On his back and dreaming deep. When the fire makes him hot, He turns to warm whatever’s not. Propped against him on the rug, I give my friend a gentle hug. Tomorrow’s what I'm waiting for, But I can wait a little more.